Touched by the Sun
by music51
Summary: Six months after Mayu's death, her sister Minako is still grieving. Can Ikebukuro help her to heal?
1. Prologue

Author's note: I don't know why I chose Ikebukuro for this story out of all the stations—somehow, I just pictured him with Minako and they clicked as a couple in my mind. If you're not familiar with Taiyo Ikebukuro, he is an official MT station, but he wasn't created until after the anime ended, so he doesn't appear in it (though he does appear in the manga and has a voice intro on the official site). I've tried to stay as authentic to his official characterization as possible, given that I can't read Japanese and had to rely on my browser's lame autotranslation. :( Apparently "taiyo" means "sun" in Japanese, so I tried to use that in this fic. Also, in Episode 11, it's not clear what kind of vehicle Mayu got hit by, though it sounds more like a car than a truck…but in this fic, it's a truck. Hope that doesn't upset anyone. :)

Except where otherwise noted, this fic takes place two and a half years before the events in Episode 11. (I know Ikebukuro hadn't been created yet, but…we'll pretend he was!)

Acknowledgement and disclaimer: Some of the things Ikebukuro says are modified from my browser's autotranslation of stuff on the official MT site. I own nothing and I am not affiliated in any way with the Miracle Train Project or Seibu and Tobu department stores. Don't sue me!

"_Neesan! Neesan!"_

Minako screamed, but couldn't make a sound. She ran, but never neared her destination. No matter how desperately she strained her will, no matter how insistently she drove her body, she couldn't close the distance between herself and her sister. She was dimly aware that she had done all this before—that she had attempted countless rescues and failed every time—and paradoxically, this knowledge gave her hope. _I remember now!_ she thought. _I remember dreaming that I couldn't reach her—but those were only dreams. This is real. This time, I can do it._

Still furiously pumping her legs, she had a sudden flash of insight. _Of course—I'll never make it if I run. I have to fly!_ Nimbly she leapt into the air and soared toward the intersection, seizing both the balloon and her sister as she descended. She watched with satisfaction as the child ran into the street and was crushed under the wheels of the truck; then she hugged her sister triumphantly. _"Neesan! It's all right, I've got you! You're safe! Here, take the balloon. It's yours now!"_ Waves of joy and relief swept over her. She had done it! At last, it was all over…

…the increasingly loud beeping of her alarm clock pierced her euphoria like a needle meeting flesh. She opened her eyes.

_No… it's not true,_ her heart urged. _I saved her! I know I did!_

She stared at the ceiling. One by one, the walls of her heart collapsed.

_She's dead._


	2. Chapter 1

Minako worked as a shopgirl in Ikebukuro. While most of her coworkers commiserated about the less-than-ideal aspects of a retail gig—the low wages, difficult customers, and endless hours spent on one's feet—Minako didn't resent the daily grind. For the most part, she actually liked her job. Vivacious and outgoing by nature, she genuinely enjoyed helping others; and everyone agreed that she had a unique gift for smoothing ruffled feathers and putting smiles on the faces of even the most petulant customers. But ever since Mayu's death, this gift had faded. The charm and charisma for which Minako had been known was replaced by a certain reserve: a polite but formal detachment that made her smiles seem artificial. Once, she had even been short with a customer—impatient, if not exactly rude. Even that much was so alien to her old personality that she herself was shocked by it…as was her manager. Knowing the tragedy that had befallen her recently, he had told her that she would not be disciplined for the event; but knowing also that her performance had declined and his business was at stake, he had firmly informed her that no further slips would be tolerated.

Today, she had arrived at the store already on edge because of her dream, then doubly so as she began to worry that her anxiety might result in another customer service blunder. However, she'd miraculously made it through the day without any major missteps, and as luck would have it, she wasn't scheduled to close that evening. Breathing an inward sigh of relief, she left the store while the sun was still in the sky. She was heading for home when, arrested by some irresistible impulse, she stopped abruptly in front of a café. Minako seldom patronized cafés—partly because she was usually too tired after a long day's work, and partly because she never liked to spend the money—but this time she found herself staring longingly at an especially cozy and inviting interior.

_After a day like this, I could use a good stiff drink,_ she quipped to herself, a touch of her old humor returning. _Make mine a vodka martini—shaken, not stirred._

Smiling wryly, she opened the door and stepped inside. The whole place was empty.

_What? Where'd everybody go? I thought I saw a bunch of people in here. Oh, well. Maybe they saw me coming and ran for cover. Like Gojira._

She giggled as she grabbed a menu and seated herself. "Minakojira, Monster Shopgirl! I eat men for breakfast! Ha, ha!"

"Do you really eat men for breakfast?"

She choked on her laughter and lowered her menu to reveal an intense pair of light-brown eyes set in an earnest and impossibly handsome face. The face was framed by waves of golden hair, swept up on one side with barrettes. Looking straight at her was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen in her life.

"…Because if you _do_ eat men for breakfast," he continued, "then I'd like to be on your menu."

She stared at him as she felt herself flushing under his gaze. His expression was so guileless and sincere that it completely disarmed her and rendered her speechless. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a tiny voice urged her to respond to him—to say something witty, or flirtatious, or even seductive, or simply to _smile_ at him if she was incapable of anything else—but she was truly at a loss. Ultimately it was he who broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," he said with a trace of boyish embarrassment. "I didn't mean to be so forward. It's just that when I saw you, I couldn't help myself." Suddenly his eyes widened in alarm. "That sounds like a bad pickup line—I didn't mean it that way, I swear! I don't usually talk to girls like this—it's just that I wanted to talk to _you_ because I see you all the time—you work down the street and you always use Ikebukuro station—and I've wanted to talk to you for such a long time now—I've watched you, and waited, and hoped that one day—oh, no." He cut himself off with a groan. "Great. Now I sound like a creepy stalker."

He looked so utterly defeated that she couldn't help but laugh, and when he heard her he cast her such a pathetically endearing glance that she laughed even more. Seeing her happy, he smiled; and it seemed to her that his smile was just like the sun shining on a cloudless day.

"Oh—of course!" he exclaimed, slapping his forehead. "I'm supposed to be taking your order. Forgive me." He bowed. "What would you like, Princess Minako?"

She was startled to hear him say her name until she realized that she'd just called herself "Minakojira" out loud. Embarrassed all over again, she found it impossible to think. "Um…er…uh…what—what would you recommend?"

"For you, Princess? Hmm…rose tea."

She smiled. "That sounds great."

"I'll have it right out!" he said eagerly, and he dashed toward the café entrance.

"Um—"

He paused and turned to her. "Yes? You'd like something more?"

"N-no, it's just that…uh…do you have to get the tea from somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?"

"You looked as if you were heading out the door."

He glanced toward the entrance; then at the counter and kitchen; and finally, back at her. "I've done it again!" he wailed in despair. "I have a terrible sense of direction. Especially when it comes to east and west. It's all because of the confusion with the Seibu and Tobu department stores. Iidabashi-san's always telling me to be more careful, but…I can't help it. I'm hopeless." And with that his shoulders slumped so pitifully that he looked like a deflated balloon. Minako giggled…then stopped short.

_Balloon._

He drew near her, his brown eyes filled with concern. "Minako-san? Is something wrong? Are you all right?"

The polite lies to which she was accustomed by now came readily enough to her tongue. _I'm fine. It's nothing. Everything's all right._ But somehow, she couldn't bring herself to say them. Not here. Not now. Not after six months of this. Not after the dream she'd had last night. Not after a long day of working like a wind-up doll: never a false step, but never a human one either. Not after meeting this strange, beautiful man—a man who made her laugh for the first time in six months—before whose honest and caring eyes she _could not lie_.

She met his gaze. "No, I'm not all right. And nothing will ever be all right again."


	3. Chapter 2

He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked softly.

"Yes." She spoke the word with effort, and only after a long pause; then realized she'd have to say something more. Somehow, she didn't know quite where to begin. He must have sensed this because he reached for her hand and gently—ever so gently—began to stroke it. His touch was so kind that it melted the last remnants of her self-control. She burst into tears.

Immediately she felt his arms around her, cradling her like a child. She abandoned herself to the warmth of his body and to the sobs which racked her frame. How long she remained like that, she wasn't sure…but eventually she became aware of her anguish receding, leaving exhaustion and emptiness in its wake. Still buried in his chest, she stirred slightly, and he responded to her movement by pressing his lips to her hair.

"Again. Please."

Had she said those words aloud? She must have, for she felt him kiss her hair again …and again…and once more after that. Breathing deeply, she at last found herself strong enough to leave his embrace. She drew back and began her story.

"It all started six months ago. Six months ago, my sister was killed in an accident. She raced across an intersection to rescue a balloon a child had lost and got hit by a truck. I—I wasn't there when it happened," she murmured, "but in my mind I can see it over and over again. She was always like that—helping people, no matter what the cost was to herself. It's funny—I always knew she'd die from helping someone. But I figured it'd be different…you know, like taking a stab wound for somebody in an armed robbery, or dying of some tropical disease somewhere while working for a humanitarian organization. But—chasing some kid's _balloon? That's_ how she died? I can't accept it. I can't accept something so ridiculous and stupid." She leapt to her feet, her voice rising almost to a scream. "OK, people die, we all have to die—some people die young—I get it. Cancer, plague, war, famine, whatever—I get it. But a _balloon?_ My sister died a horrific, gruesome death because some kid was too stupid to hold on to a _balloon? She didn't have to die!_ Don't you see? She was always running late—if she'd been a little later, or a little earlier—if it had been the day before, or the day after—if she'd been just a little faster or a little slower in chasing the balloon—_she'd still be alive today!_ The whole thing is absurd! Didn't anyone try to stop her? Didn't the _mother_ of the idiot kid try to stop her? Why is my sister dead and that idiot brat still alive? _It makes no sense! _If I saw that spoiled idiot brat _I'D WRING HER NECK!_"

She shouted those last words with such an ecstasy of spite that she recoiled at her own fury. Shaking, she lowered herself onto her seat. She closed her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was as fragile as a frightened child's. "I…I didn't know I was that angry. I don't want to hate anyone."

Tenderly, the man who'd given her such patient audience took her hands in his own. He smiled at her, and somehow it gave her the courage to forgive herself.

"You know," he said slowly, "you're right. It _is_ absurd. And you don't have to pretend it isn't."

"I do. I have to pretend to the world that I'm OK and that I've moved on. The world is a harsh place," she reflected bitterly. "Everybody has something painful to deal with, and you'd think that'd make us all more sympathetic, more supportive of each other. But instead, we're all expected to lick our wounds and soldier on as if nothing happened. We might be permitted a few weeks, maybe a month or two to mourn, but after that, the world gets impatient. It seems that grief is a luxury we're not allowed."

"As far as _I'm_ concerned, you're allowed it," he said with conviction. "And I don't care what the world thinks." Impulsively, he kissed her hand. "You're a princess, Minako-san. Believe it. Don't let the peasants push you around. Be true to yourself—true to your love and true to your grief."

"My parents don't want to talk about what happened. They don't even want to talk about _her_ anymore. But—I want to—I _need_ to…."

"Then talk to me. I know it's not the same as talking to someone who knew her, but—"

"No, don't think that!" she burst out. "I'd _love_ to talk to you. Just talking to you now has helped me more than I can say. It's weird—I just met you, but it's so easy to open up to you. I feel like I've known you forever." She laughed and rolled her eyes. "God, now _that_ sounds like a bad pickup line!"

He grinned. "You don't need to use any pickup lines on me, Princess—I'm already your devoted servant." And here he snatched the rose that was decorating the table and put it between his teeth, dropping to one knee in a worshipful, dramatic pose. She played along and made a show of swooning with a hand draped across her forehead. Then they both dissolved in laughter—_real_ laughter, the kind she'd almost forgotten. Her newfound happiness gave her an unexpected impulse. "You know…there's something I'd like to do. It may not be anytime soon…but someday…someday, I'd like to meet that child—the little girl who had the balloon—and give her a hug." She paused and added quietly, "I said that I didn't want to hate her…but I don't want her to hate herself either. She's got a burden to bear for the rest of her life." She turned to her companion and saw tears in his eyes.

"That's why I love you, Princess," he said softly. "I've loved you ever since I first saw you stepping off the train at Ikebukuro." He traced a reverent finger down her cheek. "Because I have a bad sense of direction, I get lost a lot…but I've found that the best way to get to a place isn't always the shortest. Maybe your path toward healing will be longer than you thought…but that could be a good thing. The _best_ thing. And I promise that I'll be by your side—every step of the way."

She threw her arms around him gratefully as they rose to their feet. "By the way," she remarked, "you never told me your name."

"I didn't? God, you're right—I've really been a blockhead today! A thousand pardons, Princess. Let me introduce myself. I'm Ikebukuro. Taiyo Ikebukuro, at your service."

"Ikebukuro? Is that a stage name?"

"No, it's a station name," he replied matter-of-factly. Seeing her look of confusion, he quickly added, "Please allow me to explain…ah, over dinner, perhaps?" he offered with a playfully seductive grin.

Slipping her arm in his, she answered his question with a kiss on the cheek, and they walked out into the twilight.


	4. Epilogue

_Two and a half years later…._

"Taiyo-kun! Taiyo-kun!" she cried.

"What is it, Princess? What's wrong?"

She rushed into his arms and burst into tears. "No—nothing's wrong," she sobbed. "It's just—it's—oh my God…."

She brokenly related to him how, that morning, she'd finally done what she'd long planned—to visit, comfort, and forgive the child involved in her sister's death. She had hugged the girl and given her a treasure: one of her sister's own childhood toys. "Not as a reminder of what happened," she explained through her tears, "but just because I know _neesan_ would have wanted her to have it, since she couldn't get her balloon back. That's the kind of person she was." Her voice was full of pain and love, but without anger or bitterness.

"And then—and then—oh God, Taiyo-kun!" Her sobs came faster and nearly choked her now. Ikebukuro held her and caressed her soothingly. But she was too overcome to speak, and could only hold her cell phone out to him. He looked down at it, still embracing her securely, and saw a text message from—

—no, it couldn't be…

_From: Mayu_

_Sub: Hot guys!_

_Hey Mina-chan! You won't believe this—I'm riding a train with a bunch of gorgeous guys! And they keep telling me they're train stations—no joke! I'll tell you all about it later…for now, just check them out!_

Attached were photos of Shiodome, Shinjuku, Tsukishima, and Ryogoku.

"She found it," Minako whispered. "She found the Miracle Train. I'm so glad." Then she surrendered to her tears…not of sorrow, but of joy.

Author's note: In Episode 11, Roppongi didn't 'activate' Mayu's cell phone until after she texted her sister. So how did Minako get her text after all? I don't know…I guess it must have been a miracle. :)


End file.
